The Hunt
by Awesome-American
Summary: Four curious hunters decide to sail to a mysterious island known for its tendency to cause people to disappear, leaving no trace or any explanations. Upon their arrival, they find themselves in the middle of the most dangerous hunt they've had yet, along with some others who had come before them. Will they be the hunters, or the hunted? [Human AU] (Warning: Future character deaths)
1. Man Overboard

***Commence long introductions and disclaimers***

**Welcome to my first story on this site! I hope you'll like it :3**

**Anyway, I got the idea for this story from a short story by Richard Connell called "The Most Dangerous Game." You guys should read it, it's actually pretty good, though the ending is somewhat anti-climactic.**

**So the entire time I was reading that in school, I kept thinking Hetalia, Hetalia, Hetalia, so here I am! I'm not going to copy the story entirely of course. I'll make it longer, add different stuff, and change certain things. The short story itself is simply an inspiration, I guess.**

**Here we go with disclaimers…**

**_I do not own Hetalia and its characters, or the basic, simplified plot and idea of "The Most Dangerous Game"_**

**_All credit goes to its original owners/creators/whatever idk dude._**

**That wasn't as long as I thought it would be. Whatever, let's get on with the story!**

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><p>"You think we passed it?"<p>

"I hope so."

"What? Dude, it's the whole point of this trip! You're not backing outta this."

"Do you realize how dangerous this could be?"

"No, not really."

The two men went back and forth, the Brit trying to convince his slightly younger American companion that this trip was a bad idea. Meanwhile, a Frenchman and a Canadian stand elsewhere on the decently-sized ship doing their own thing. The four hunters were on their way to a mysterious island clouded by superstitions and stories spread by other sailors and explorers and hunter who had dared to venture to the infamous remote land.

According to the spreading stories, no man or woman who had gone to that island has ever come back. No shipwrecks had ever been found, and no other trace of the missing. Some say it's the treacherous waters and frequent storms that take the unfortunate souls, but others think there's something else out there. Most steer clear of the island, not even taking the risk of getting near it. But every now and then, some curious people, mostly younger, more naive adventurers, take the trip to the island with hopes of figuring out what exactly is up with it. However, none are ever heard from again.

"We've been out here for days and have lost most of the crew. We're not turning back now because the British dude with caterpillar eyebrows is being a big baby!" the American exclaimed, staring out into the dark night with its thickening fog and angry ocean waves. "Besides, we'll be fine! I'm the hero, after all!"

The Englishman let out a frustrated sigh, ignoring the comment on his eyebrows. There was no way they were getting out of this, was there? Oh, well. He _did_ agree to go with his three hunting acquaintances on this new adventure. They've been all around the world together, on every continent, and in every climate. According to the loud American, this particular trip was just another challenge that they would overcome. But he had a bad feeling about this...

He decided to make some small talk to pass the time and get his mind away from the feeling that something wasn't right. "Hunting is quite the sport, don't you agree, Alfred?"

"It's the best sport in the world!" Alfred exclaimed enthusiastically.

"Yes, but only for the hunter," the Brit pointed out. By this time, the Frenchman had joined them, and he guessed that their Canadian friend was alone captaining their boat. "For the animal, however, things are different."

Alfred snorted out a laugh. "Oh, c'mon, Arthur. Why would people like us care about how a simple-minded animal feels? They have no reason or understanding like us! It's dead in the end, anyway."

"But something they do understand is fear," the Frenchman commented, finally jumping into the conversation and earning a glare from Arthur. "Fear, pain, and death. What if you were put into their situation, Alfred? How would you feel?"

The American laughed loudly again. "You too, Francis? You two are going crazy. Maybe being stuck on a boat for a week is too much for you dudes," he scoffed. "Look, I don't care about how I'd feel in that situation. Why? Because I'm never going to _be_ in that situation! The world is divided into two groups: hunters and huntees. What are we? Hunters, fortunately. Things will always be that way."

Francis and Arthur exchanged glances. Both men figured there was no convincing the nineteen-year-old, and decided not to continue with any counter-arguments. After some more talk about the worsening weather, the two left to go to sleep in their respective cabins, bidding Alfred goodnight before leaving him alone on the deck.

Standing there in silence, looking out at the violent waters, Alfred couldn't help but noticing a strange and somewhat frightening feeling creeping up on him. The feeling grew as the waters became calmer and the fog became thinner. He didn't like this feeling. The air felt weighted with the lost, sorrowful and angry souls of countless men and women. It reminded him of the feeling he got when he would watch horror movies, and he absolutely hated the thought of ghosts. Did this mean they were nearing the island?

Determined for an answer, Alfred leaned forward, narrowing his eyes in an attempt to find the island. He gasped when he thought he caught a glimpse of a tree, and decided it would be a good idea to lean even further. However, that was a big mistake. The young man lost his balance, flipping over the edge of the ship and landing in the tropical waters. He thrashed about, startled and in panic, but soon collected himself in seconds and calmed a bit. He yelled for the speeding boat to turn around, for the others to come and get him. But it was too late, and he soon found himself alone in the 's attention turned forward and a bit to his right. What was that abrupt sound he had just heard? It cut through the silence of the night like a gunshot. Wait a minute...it _was_ a gunshot! Two, three more rang out through the salty air. Trusting his instincts, Alfred began to swam towards where he had heard the sounds come from, unaware of what was waiting for him at his destination.

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><p><strong>Well that was extremely short. Don't worry, I'll try my best to make future chapters longer and more eventful :)<strong>

**To answer any questions anyone may have about who I'm planning to include in this story, there will be a lot of characters. The Allies, Axis, Nordics, and some others.**

**Anyway, please let me know what you think of the first chapter!**


	2. Hamburgers in the Middle of the Jungle

**Yay I made a longer chapter (kind of, not really .–.)! And just so this is clear, I'll usually use Google Translate for when there are other languages in this story, so some things might not be right. Just correct me if something is completely wrong haha.**

**Ok, on to the chapter!**

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><p>It was a shorter swim than Alfred had anticipated, yet he still collapsed on the sandy shore panting after practically dragging himself from the roaring waters as if he'd been going for hours. He stared up at the dark starry sky, the atmosphere now completely clear of the fog that had been limiting the visibility earlier. The gunshots were gone by now; it was actually eerily silent.<p>

After a few minutes of catching his breath and regaining some strength, Alfred cautiously stood up and observed his surroundings. He first looked out across the ocean, hoping to see his friends coming to rescue him. But unfortunately, he only saw rolling waves and thick darkness past the sandy shore. The island itself appeared to be nothing special. Looking around, he saw sand, shells, a cluster of some big rocks, a destroyed rowboat, and tall trees as he walked further inwards.

The jungle didn't look too out-of-the-ordinary, either. He was beginning to doubt all of the sailor lore surrounding this place. He had actually been counting on at least some parts of those legends to be true. Otherwise, this whole journey was for nothing and now he was stuck on a boring island waiting for the others to find him. Great.

There was the fact that the island's atmosphere was a little creepy, feeling like it imprisoned a million poor souls. But of course, this didn't make him feel any better. Out of everything that could be here, he certainly didn't want it to be ghosts. _Anything_ but ghosts.

The hunter's stomach growled, reminding him that he was actually pretty hungry. _I would kill for a hamburger right now_. His mouth watered at the mention of his favorite food, but he forced himself to stop torturing himself with thoughts of burgers he wouldn't be eating anytime soon.

Alfred was too focused on his hunger to notice the tall figure stealthily following him from within the shadows of the trees. The figure let his lips curl upwards into a smile that was somewhat childish, in some creepy, mad, twisted way. After a while, he decided he had observed the newcomer enough, and excitedly hurried to his home to prepare for his arrival.

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><p>Somewhere deeper in the jungle, four men sat around a tiny fire, talking in hushed voices, as if they thought they were being watched. One dark-haired man barely talked at all, and instead listened to the conversation intently, watching the facial expressions and body language of the others and nodding every now and then. Another, unlike the quieter man, was talking on and on about this and that, moving from topic to topic, seeming like he had an endless supply of energy and stories as a strange curl of hair on the left side of his head bobbed up and down with his excitement. To his left was a man who looked like he could be a clone of him, the only differences being his slightly darker hair, his height being about an inch or two taller, his curl on the right rather than the left, and a scowl that looked like it was permanently etched into his face. Last but not least was a tall, muscular blond with hair neatly slicked back and icy blue eyes who seemed like the veins in his forehead would burst as he was forced to endure the constant babbling of his happy friend. On any other day in any other place, he could at least tolerate this, but right here, right now, he just couldn't.<p>

It turned out the scowling man couldn't take it any further as well, because he eventually stood up and yelled at the identical man, who had shifted from English to Italian at some point in his rambling. "Shut up, already! Do you even realize what the fuck is happening right now?! We're in a fucking jungle, hiding from some insane bastard with a gun and a shit ton of vicious dogs, and all you can do is talk about pasta, cute girls, and cats?! We could be _dead_ by tomorrow for all I know!"

The other man looked up at him, surprised at the outburst. And then his eyes began to fill with tears, and his smile was long gone. The other let out a big sigh and sat beside him again. "Feli...I didn't mean... Ugh, stop crying..." he said in a kinder tone, his expression kind of softening as he put a hand on the crying man's shoulder.

'Feli' wiped his eyes and replied, "Yeah...I know. Sorry, Roma." His smile returned, along with the other's scowl.

"Whatever, _idiota_."

"If you two _dummkopf_ haven't realized, that little episode was most likely heard across the island. That Russian probably has his dogs coming after us as we speak, so better move out before we're caught," said the intimidating blond in a low German accent as he stood up and grabbed his backpack.

The dark-haired man nodded, calmly standing with his bag of belongings as well. "I agree with Ludwig. And Romano, you must control your anger. The last thing we want is to be caught because you were yelling at Feliciano."

"Tch. No promises," Romano grumbled, roughly slinging his bag onto his shoulder and following him and Ludwig with Feliciano right behind.

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><p>After over an hour or two of walking, Alfred came to the heart of the island where he came upon an incredible sight. Built right into the side of a mountain, hidden by tropical vegetation, was an enormous, beautiful mansion that looked like it could've taken years to complete, especially in a place like this. To the right of it was a huge spring emptying into a bright blue pool that sparkled in the moonlight, surrounded by colorful flowers and big rocks, and to the left a bridge connected the top level of the mansion to a platform in the trees, where the rest was hidden by the jungle. Alfred let out a low whistle as he took everything in after making sure he wasn't hallucinating.<p>

_No wonder people disappear when they come here,_ he thought to himself. _They probably never wanna leave after discovering this place!_ He walked closer to the building, eventually finding himselft at the front doors. With a bit of hesitation and his hand instinctively on his belt, even though his gun wasn't there, he knocked and took a step back as if whatever was inside would just immediately come out and snatch him.

A timid-looking man about his age with wavy brown hair opened up and just looked at him, not saying a word. They stood there for a minute without talking before the man said, "Welcome, Mr. Jones. My b-boss has been expecting you. Come in, and h-he'll be with you in a moment." He seemed to shiver at the mention of his boss. And what was that accent he had? Whatever, it was something foreign.

Alfred raised an eyebrow, but shrugged and followed the man through the door. The inside of the mansion was as breathtaking as the outside. It was filled with handmade furniture, animal pelt rugs, countless animal heads mounted along the walls, and even electrical appliances, somehow. He was brought into a dining room and seated at one end of a long, empty table. On the other end was another chair that could be compared to a throne, probably for this man's 'boss.'

Minutes later, a tall, scary-looking man wearing a white scarf despite the heat strolled in, seating himself at the head of the table. Smiling like a child, he greeted his guest. "Hello, Alfred F. Jones." Alfred mentally scowled at the Russian accent. "I see you've finally made your way to this island of mine. I'd expect someone like you to come here sooner. Also, where is your ship and those friends of yours? Surely you did not swim here all the way from America, let alone come by yourself."

"I...fell overboard," he managed to get out with difficultly, as if the Russian's scariness was hindering his ability to speak. "How do you know who I am?"

"Who in the hunting world doesn't know who you are? You're quite famous, да?" he said, keeping that smile on his face. Just then, three people, including the one who had met Alfred at the door, came in with plates of food; chicken, potatoes, a bunch of different vegetables, various soups, and...hamburgers? "I heard you like hamburgers, so I had them made for you. I advise you to eat as much as you can. Just sit back and enjoy while I explain myself a bit here."

Alfred stared down the feast set before him as a drink was poured. He looked from the food, to the Russian, and back to the food. He had the feeling something wasn't right about this guy, but he ignored it and began attacking the food, starting with the burgers.

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><p><strong>Dammit, I wanted this chapter to be longer. Whatever, I tried *sigh*<strong>

**-Translations-**

**idiota: ****_Italian - _****idiot**

**dummkopf: ****_German _****- ****fool, idiot, etc.**

**да?: ****_Russian_**** - yes?**


	3. Animals With Reason

***Tried to make a longer chapter but probably failed anyway***

**Hey, I'm trying! It's hard to know whether or not a chapter is long when I'm stuck writing on my phone because my iPad is being an ass and there are fucking bees where the computer is :(**

**Anyway, enjoy!**

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><p>Alfred listened as the big Russian man, whose name he had learned is Ivan Braginsky, told him stories of how he once travelled around the world to just about every different setting, hunting every animal he could and not giving up until he got what he wanted. He liked to go for the most dangerous creatures in the most dangerous places; he loved taking risks and getting a rush of life-threatening action.<p>

When the younger hunter asked Ivan why he had never hear of or encountered him, he simply replied with an explanation of how he preferred working alone or with very little people, and he liked to keep under the radar so he could focus on his work rather than publicity and attention. He admitted to his tendency to scare people off with his general appearance and behavior, though he didn't like this. This, as he had said, was part of why he invited newcomers into his home and tried to befriend them. He was lonely, even with those three other people Alfred had seen earlier and apparently several more.

"Dude, why live on an isolated island?" questioned Alfred. He paused for a moment, and then added, "By the way, do you know why people who come here just disappear?" He hoped this man had nothing to do with that, however he wouldn't be surprised if he was.

Ivan smiled and quietly laughed to himself. "I will answer both of those questions with what I was going to say next. As you now know, I have been hunting around the world since I was eighteen; that's just about five years. I have gotten bored after seeing pretty much everything a hunter and adventurer like ourselves could see. Most animals are just so _mindless_ and do not understand anything about being hunted except that they need to flee when they know there is danger. So I thought to myself, _Where can I find a smart animal that will challenge me with its ability to reason?_ Do you know what kind of animal can use reason, Jones? What kind animal uses its mind rather than instinct and nature to fight back?"

Sipping his Coca-Cola, — he was too young to drink any of the alcoholic beverages offered to him — Alfred thought for a second. He gave up quickly, replying with a short "Nope."

Ivan's smile widened, and he somewhat resembled the Cheshire Cat with an added childlike quality. The smile of a madman, Alfred was beginning to realize. "_Humans_," he replied matter-of-factly, with a hint of joy clear in his voice. He almost seemed excited about it. That smile grew even larger, if that was at all possible, when a look of horror appeared on Alfred's face.

He knew something was up, but not in a million years would he have guessed that. Unless...this was a joke. It had to be. Nervously, Alfred began to laugh, trying to convince himself it was indeed a joke.

"What is so funny, Jones?" Ivan asked innocently.

"Well, you can't be serious, Braginsky," answered Alfred. His laughter died down when he noticed Ivan's expression: smiling, but dead serious. This man was not kidding. "W-wait, really? Humans? What... What do you do? Lure them to this island and just kill them? Every one of those people who have come here?"

Ivan politely folded his hands and rested them on the table in front of him as the empty plates were cleared and the table became bare again. "It is a little more complicated than that. I don't lure them here. Their naive and reckless curiosity drives them to come on their own. After stepping foot on the island, they eventually come here, to my mansion. I invite them in and talk to them and feed them and give them a place to sleep like a good host and friend. The next day, they have the opportunity to train with my fighting expert, read up on survival in the jungle, and chose weapons from a large selection.

"The day after that, the hunt begins. I give them another day alone in the jungle to prepare themselves before I come to find them. It is a game of sorts. If they are still alive after one week, they may leave unharmed, knowing they have won. However," he chuckled to himself, "I have never lost, not once. Very rarely, if I decide they are worth it, I may spare someone once I catch them and allow them to join me. If they refuse, I finish them. Eight men have been spared so far, and they are doing just fine. But I am a man of my word, so if some fortunate soul does manage to win, he will be free to go."

There was a long pause as Ivan thought about what to say next and Alfred tried to process what he had just heard. The latter briefly considered making a run for it right then and there, realizing he was next if this unbelievable story was true. Minutes passed, and the Russian opened his mouth again. "I do not plan on sparing you, Jones. As interesting of an addition you would be to my...team, I will not spare you. I do not like you Americans, and you in particular. You are all so annoying and loud, so full of yourselves, thinking the world revolves around you. I cannot stand Americans."

"You're sick, Braginsky," Alfred finally spat, terror being replaced with hate and anger. All those innocent lives, just lost because a cruel, twisted man wanted to play a challenging _game_?! Alfred thought of himself as a hero, and Ivan Braginsky was most certainly a villain. He needed to win this idiotic game of his so he could proceed to end him.

Ivan clicked his tongue, holding up his hand. "Now, now, you do not want to provoke me, Jones. You are damaging your chances of winning. Now run along and get some sleep. You will want to get up early tomorrow."

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><p>"Matthew, have you seen your brother?" The stressed-out Briton frantically banged on the Canadian's cabin door. He had woken up early that morning and went to get the American up for breakfast, but he was nowhere to be found. Francis said he hadn't seen him in the time he'd been awake to captain their ship either.<p>

There were shuffling sounds and a tired groan before the door was opened, revealing Matthew standing there in maple leaf boxers and a red T-shirt with half of his wavy flaxen hair in a tangled mess. "Have I what?" he asked groggily in that just-above-a-whisper voice of his.

"Have you seen Alfred?" Arthur repeated.

Matthew shook his head. "No, not since last night. I remember seeing him looking over the edge of the ship, but I barely paid any attention to him. It was foggy anyway. Why? Is he missing?"

"Bollocks," he muttered to himself. "I can't find him anywhere, and the frog hasn't seen him. Do you think he could've fallen overboard...?"

A worried look crossed the other's face. "That...seems to be the only explanation. Maybe he ended up on the island. We're pretty close anyway, right? He's strong, so he could've swam there without any problems. Though there was a lot fog last night... I hope he's alright." He sighed, shutting his violet-blue eyes and tiredly snapping them back open. "Just give me a moment to change, and I'll meet you on the main deck, eh?" Arthur nodded and went up to talk to Francis.

The Frenchman was quietly humming a tune to himself as he held his hands steadily on the wheel, bringing their ship through the lessening fog. "Anything?" he asked, keeping his eyes forward. Arthur stood next to him and shook his head. "He probably abandoned ship to escape your horrible cooking." He smirked, earning a glare and a weak punch.

"Shut it, Frog, this isn't the time to be joking around!" Arthur yelled, clenching his teeth.

Francis rolled his eyes. "I'm just trying to lighten the mood, _mon ami_, calm down. I'm sure he's fine. We're almost to the island, and I bet he's there already. Oh, good morning, Matthew!" Arthur nearly had a heart attack as he turned to find Matthew standing right next to him. He sure was good at sneaking up on people.

"Morning, Francis," greeted Matthew quietly. He looked out at the water. He could actually see more than five feet in front of him, as opposed to the little visibility he had last night. It was much clearer now, the fog almost completely gone.

"There!" Francis suddenly exclaimed, pointing to trees that were beginning to come into view. "We're here."

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><p>"Did you hear that?" Feliciano asked as he and the other three men came together and sat in a circle for breakfast, which, today, would be berries and nuts gathered by Ludwig earlier that morning. "It sounded like a horn! Like from a ship!"<p>

Romano rolled his eyes. "Yeah right. I think this heat is messing with your head. You're hallucinating, dumbass." He popped a couple berries into his mouth and leaned up against a tree.

"You heard it, right Kiku?" he asked the Japanese man with hopeful eyes.

"I am sorry, Feliciano, but I cannot say that I did," Kiku replied.

Pouting, Feliciano disappointedly looked down into the fire, trying to decide if he really had heard what he thought he heard or not. Maybe it was his imagination. He did just wake up, after all. He probably wasn't fully awake yet. Yeah, that was it.

He decided to change the subject. "Ludwig, how long has it been?"

"Uh, nine days, I believe," was the German's short answer.

The four of them had been roaming the jungle for over a week, and that evil Russian was still hunting them. They were supposed to be free after a week, weren't they? They had won! What ever happened to that deal? Would they ever even be able to leave this island?

It wasn't right. They shouldn't even have been in this situation. They were just a few innocent explorers and hunters who wanted to satisfy their curiosities and find a couple people they had lost to the island a couple years back. What had they ever done to deserve this hell, running from an inevitable death? Nothing. Feliciano was as pure as they come. Ludwig was honorable and honest, always acting for anyone but himself. Kiku was quiet and somewhat unreadable, but a good man nonetheless. And Romano, though a swearing rage machine, had never done anything horrible, and always looked out and cared for those he loved whether he wanted to admit it or not.

Yet here they were, sitting in a little cluster around an open sack of gathered berries and nuts on an island with no way out, praying that they would not be found by that scary hunter who was out to kill them. To the hunter, it was a game, but to them, it was survival.

"_Fratello_, are we going to die?" Feliciano turned to the other glaring Italian, who was staring up into space, daydreaming about anywhere but here, no doubt.

Romano grunted, turning his attention to his younger brother. "What kind of stupid question is that?" However, he didn't answer further. He didn't know what to say, as he was asking the same thing himself.

Not too far away was a young woman with long, pale blond hair and a bow. She silently sat perched on a branch, watching and listening while playing with a small throwing knife in her hands. She was told not to make a move, so she didn't, and just continued to spy on the small group, imagining her knives burying into their heads instead.

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><p><strong>Ooooh now things are getting interesting...<strong>

**-Translations-**

**mon ami: _French_ - my friend**

**Fratello: _Italian_ - Brother**


	4. The Bigger Game

**I haven't updated this in a while haha oops. I get lazy, sorry.**

**Anyway, I tried to make this one longer than the ones I've written so far. I don't know about anyone else, but those short chapters have been annoying me. Is 3,079 words long enough? Probably not.**

**Also, I'm starting to plan a new story that takes place during WW2 mainly about Italy and Romano, but it'll include a lot of other characters too. But I'm gonna need to do A LOT of research, especially on the Italian Co-belligerent Army or the Italian Resistance (I still haven't decided which I want to use yet).**

**But that's gonna be after this story (unless you're reading this in the future where I've written it already). For now, enjoy chapter 4!**

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><p>Arthur, Francis, and Matthew walked down a wide, seemingly endless hallway, following an Asian man with a ponytail. They had been walking all morning through the thick jungle after reaching the island (and destroying part of their ship on some big, pointy rocks by the shore), and eventually found an huge mansion surrounded by colorful flowers and a sparkly spring. After some arguing between Arthur and Francis over whether or not they should approach it, they decided to let Matthew decide. Matthew, being the careful and rational person he is, settled on not entering. However, Francis dragged them over to the front doors anyway, immaturely making the point that they should listen because he was the oldest and also the handsomest of the three, whatever that has to do with anything.<p>

After being greeted by a short boy with a red uniform who looked as if he had a nervous expression permanently implanted onto the front of his face, they were stripped of their weapons and led through the amazing mansion and into a dining room with a large table where they were seated to have lunch with the boy's boss. He turned out to be an intimidating but somewhat kind Russian man named Ivan who somehow knew all of their names, creepily enough. He told them about his life on the island and his hunting...methods. By the end of his story, they were thoroughly terrified to say the least.

And that brings us to this current point in time, where they were being taken to some kind of training room by a man with a ponytail to prepare for Ivan's horrible game. They were going to have one day to do this, which was plenty of time according to Ivan.

"You may choose any weapon you find inside to train with and keep, unless you would like to use the ones you brought with you," said the man as he stopped at an intersection and turned around to face the trio. "But the arms we have are much better than those you had brought with you. Also, you can stay in the training room for as long as you like, but only if I or the other two trainers are there, which we probably will be for the whole day. Oh, and there's another man who will be training with you guys. He looks like you." He gestured to Matthew, and then turned back around to continue down the hallway on the right.

"Thank goodness, Alfred's here," Matthew breathed, though he wasn't sure if that really was a good thing or a bad thing. They were all practically being sent to their deaths here. At least he would die alongside his brother.

The training room was fairly large and extremely organized, with one side of the room filled with various weapons and survival gear and supplies, and the rest littered with practice dummies, target practice, mats on the ground, and even obstacle courses. Sure enough, they found Alfred there, punching and kicking a punching bag with his great strength.

"Sup, dudes!" Alfred exclaimed from across the room, waving and smiling as if they weren't going to be hunted by a psychotic man within the next few days.

"How the hell did you get here?!" Arthur immediately asked, part of him angry at Alfred for worrying him and the other part grateful to find him alive. "You had us worried sick!" He stomped across the room to where the younger American stood, almost laughing.

"I fell overboard, but with my hero strength, I swam to shore and eventually ended up here!" He fist-pumped the air with a proud grin on his face. Arthur rolled his eyes, feeling like Alfred didn't really understand how horrible of a situation they've just been shoved into.

The man with the ponytail cleared his throat and said, "So you all can begin now. Antonio, Gilbert, and I will be here go help you as much as we can. I specifically specialize in close combat like Kung-fu, if that's something you want to practice here. The other two should be here in a minute, by the way. Oh, and my name is Yao."

Francis' eyes widened a bit at the mention of the first two names. Could his two best friends really be here? He hadn't seen them for over two years. They allegedly disappeared while sailing here in the Pacific Ocean, but they never said anything about attempting to get to _this_ infamous island. They would've mentioned something like that. Perhaps they had gotten lost on their way to their initial planned destination? Unless these guys aren't his friends at all.

His internal thoughts were interrupted when a man with white hair and reddish eyes burst into the room, followed by another man with slightly tanned skin, brown hair, and green eyes. The white-haired man walked in like he owned everything, exclaiming, "Sup losers, the awesome Gilbert has arrived!" in an obnoxious German accent. "Who's getting sent to their death this time? Anyone interesting? Please don't tell me they're like that last lame guy a couple days—_mein gott_, Francis!"

"Gilbert! Antonio!" The three ran into a (completely manly and totally not emotional) group hug. They pulled away from each other and began rambling about what's happened to each of them within the last two years, disregarding the fact that there were four others standing around awkwardly in the room, and that Francis, Alfred, Arthur, and Matthew had to prepare to be hunted by Ivan Braginsky.

The others eventually moved on to start doing whatever they were going to do, while the trio continued to catch up with each other. "We were headed to an island north of here," said Antonio as he began to explain how they ended up in this mansion, "but a storm hit us and brought us to this one instead. Our ship was wrecked, but luckily, none of us had any major injuries. We couldn't signal another ship to get us because there was fog surrounding the island about a mile or two out. So, Gilbert decided to go explore the jungle, and I wasn't going to just let him go alone.

"We eventually found this place, where we met Ivan and some of his, as he would call them, 'companions' like Toris, Raivis, and Eduard. He also has his older and younger sisters, Katyusha and Natalia, here. As for Gil and I, we were spared by Braginsky after he had us surrounded with his hounds. Yao and five other guys were also spared before us, and now we all work for Ivan in exchange for our lives."

Francis nodded, taking the new information in. Then he asked, "Do you think there is a chance he'll let us live?"

"Not Alfred—he hates Americans. Probably not that other guy that looks like him, either. Are they twins? Anyway, if they're the only two Americans, then you and the huge eyebrows have a chance if you put up a good fight," replied Gilbert as he glanced about the room towards the others.

"They are twins, but Matthew is technically Canadian," Francis pointed out. "Their parents had a divorce and separated them shortly after birth. Matthew went with their mother and kept her last name, Williams, and Alfred went with their father and kept his last name, Jones."

"Braginsky still may mistaken him for an American or just kill him anyway since he's related to Alfred," Gilbert stated. "Sorry to say that. But like I said, you and Eyebrows may still have a chance. I'm saying all this assuming you lose. If you win, then I'm sure you'll all be fine. So you better win."

* * *

><p>Five men stood behind metal bars in individual cells within the caves of the mountain. Like any other day here, while four of them remained stationary and at least somewhat calm in the small, humid area, one repeatedly shook and banged on the bars at the front of his cell, yelling and cursing towards the mansion that was just in view below, where he knew a certain Russian was most likely sitting comfortably while planning his next hunt.<p>

"How about you let us go and face us, _kujon_! Are you scared we might actually kill you? Do you think—"

"Shut up. You're so annoying. He's not going to hear you," mumbled the man in the cell beside him, interrupting the loud shouting.

The clanking sound of bars rattling stopped and the yelling man let out a dramatic sigh. "How can you all stay so quiet?! We've been in this hellhole for at least two years and have only been let out six times! Why does he keep us in here anyway?" No one answered, knowing he himself realized that it was mostly because of him dragging them into plots against Ivan every time they were set free to roam this area of the island as they wished.

Everyone in the group immediately froze when they heard heavy footsteps entering the cave, accompanied by upbeat whistling and an occasional _clink_ of a faucet pipe being tapped on the bars of empty cells. Ivan finally appeared, twirling his faucet pipe around in his hands and smiling a smile that belongs on a child's face, and not a twisted murderer's.

"Good evening, everyone," he greeted in a casual tone. His gaze met cold and stoic expressions behind rusty steel bars. "How are we all tonight? Good? Good. I'm sure you're all wondering why I've come at such an odd hour. I'm here to tell you some good news. I have decided it's time for me to make some use of you five. You see, there are four people still alive in the jungle, and according to what I have told them when they first came here, they have won the game. And as you all very well know, that is not the case. But I will not be sparing them like I did with you. I have other plans. In addition to the four already out there, four more men have just arrived. The famous Alfred F. Jones, Matthew Williams, Arthur Kirkland, and Francis Bonnefoy. You must know who they are, да?" Reading the changed facial expressions on the five men around him, he concluded that the answer was yes.

"Yes, this is where this gets interesting. It seems like Francis knows two of my best men, who will no doubt not want to see their friend die. I also recall one of those men going on and on about a certain Italian he's been trying to find ever since they met. A certain Italian who just happens to be in the jungle right now. Neither know that the other is here. Oh yes, and the other one of those men currently has a brother in the jungle as well, and again, he does not know. Remember when Gilbert and Antonio joined you all here in the caves after their little assassination failure? That was when the four who are in the jungle right now arrived. Now you may want to ask, 'What significance does all of this hold?'" He paused, and was met with complete, bitter silence. So, he only smiled and continued.

"A bigger game is about to begin. A much more fun game, but also a much more complicated one. Complicated for them, anyway. And why not add more players to change things up and create a game even more enjoyable to play? This is where the five of you are needed. When I release Jones and his party into the jungle, I will also let you go. I want you to change the game. Make things more difficult for the eight who I will be hunting. Tear them apart as well; turn them against each other or create some drama. Kill a couple of them when you have the chance, but drag this on for as long as you can. I'm sure Gilbert and Antonio will try to help their friend, and even more so when they find out who else is out there, so mess with them, too. Yao might help as well, but he has no reason seeing as he believes all of his friends are dead. Do all of this, and you will be free to leave the island."

A couple gasps escaped the cells after that last sentence was spoken, and one of the dark silhouettes practically threw himself against the front bars excitedly. "Wait, for real this time?! Are you serious?!"

The Russian replied with a nod. "However," he suddenly added, interrupting their celebrations, "if you fail to satisfy me, or if you end up helping them, I will kill you along with them. See you all tomorrow. до свидания."

* * *

><p>Gilbert and Antonio sat on their respective beds in their shared room in the mansion, talking about different things as they always did until one or both of them grew tired. The midnight moon and stars beamed light through a window that overlooked the spring, providing some light in the otherwise dark room.<p>

"We have to do something, Toni. We can't let Francis die!" Gilbert said. For once, his usual smirk was wiped off of his face and replaced with a serious, determined look.

Antonio nodded slowly, a similar look on his own face. He dropped his voice to a whisper. "But what do we do, then? He'll find out if we help, and then we'll be killed after he finishes them off!"

There was a short silence before Gilbert groaned and whispered, "Then we'll just have take that risk. We can't just sit around doing nothing. That's so un-awesome. And while we're at it, I really think we should plan to kill Braginsky again. This time, we'll have more people to help!"

"I'm not doing that again, Gil. We were locked in the caves for three months last time! We just got out, and I'm definitely not going in there again."

"I don't know about you, but I want to leave this shitty island! I want to get back to my _kleiner bruder_! Don't you want to get out so you can talk to your brother again? And find that Italian guy you had been looking for for a year before we got stuck here?!" Gilbert had raised his voice above a whisper, and quickly cleared his throat and calmed down again.

Antonio let out a distressed sigh. He had never forgotten about that man he had met at a cafe in Madrid. He had talked with him for hours and learned his name and where he was from, but by the time he realized he had no way to contact him, he was gone.

_It was a perfect day in Madrid, Spain. The keyword there is 'was,' because just as Antonio made his way to his favorite cafe to grab breakfast, the skies filled with gray clouds and it began to rain. Luckily, he made it to the cafe before he was completely soaked._

_He ordered his coffee and food and began to head to his usual seat by the window. However, a man with dark brown hair and a strange curl on the side, who looked to be in his early twenties, was already seated there. Antonio shrugged and sat in the empty seat across from him. The man looked upset about something anyway, so maybe he could help!_

_"_Che cazzo vuoi?_" the man spat harshly._

_Antonio recognized the foreign language as Italian, but didn't know what the man was saying or how to respond. He doubted he knew Spanish. Maybe English? "I noticed you might be a bit lonely sitting here alone and staring out at the rain, and also this is my usual seat, so I decided to sit with you!" He smiled and hoped the Italian would understand him._

_The other man took a short moment to process what Antonio had just said, then rolled his eyes, scowled, and replied, "Well, I'm not fucking lonely so you can just walk away now and sit somewhere else, _bastardo!_" He crossed his arms and turned to face the window, but Antonio didn't move._

_"Is there something bothering you?" he asked the grumpy man, keeping the friendly smile on his face. "My name is Antonio, by the way."_

_"Don't care."_

_"What's your name?"_

_The Italian came to the conclusion that he would not be left alone, and decided he would just give in and talk to this annoying Spaniard. "...Romano."_

_"So, Romano, what's wrong?" Antonio asked, hoping he would be answered this time._

_Romano shifted in his seat to face him again. He stopped scowling and said, "My brother was just being an annoying idiot earlier, as usual. Nothing special. Can you leave me alone now?"_

_Ignoring that last request, Antonio nodded in understanding and changed the subject. "You're Italian, right? What part of Italy are you from?"_

_Romano let out a sigh of annoyance, but replied anyway. "I live in Agrigento, Sicily. I'm guessing you're from Madrid?" Antonio nodded._

_The two ended up talking for over three hours, going back and forth about their lives and sharing amusing stories. Romano gradually began to warm up to the Spaniard and got used to his energetic and optimistic attitude, but of course didn't show that he was actually starting to enjoy his presence._

_Antonio learned a few things about Romano. He had a younger brother named Feliciano who lived in northern Italy and was meeting him here in Madrid with their grandfather for a family vacation. He and his grandfather and brother often travel to different places, normally dangerous ones, and do things like climb huge mountains, camp in humid jungles, and swim in the ocean with sharks. Calling himself an "explorer" was an understatement in Antonio's opinion._

_In return, Antonio shared that he had an older brother living in Portugal, and he, too, liked to travel around the world. He said he would normally choose an interesting place to go to with his best friends to hunt, and then they would go._

_Their conversation went on until Romano had to leave. Antonio cursed to himself when he realized he hadnt gotten a number or an address to talk to him after today. Not even a last name! Maybe he could find him instead._

"Alright, fine, but we need to be careful," Antonio finally replied.

Gilbert grinned jumped up in excitement. "Yes! This is gonna be great!"

* * *

><p><strong>It's starting to get interesting now :3 I'm pretty sure I said that last chapter... Oh, well.<strong>

**So we got some more characters this chapter. As far as I know, I won't be adding any more. Maybe I will, idk.**

**-Translations-**

**mein gott: _German_ - my god**

**kujon: _Danish_ - coward**

**дa?: _Russian_ - yes?**

**до свидания: _Russian_ - Goodbye**

**kleiner bruder: _German_ - little brother**

**Che cazzo vuoi?: _Italian_ - What the fuck do you want?**

**bastardo: _Italian_ - bastard**


End file.
